


Words on the Gate

by natlet



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlet/pseuds/natlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Tim McManus had a wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words on the Gate

**Author's Note:**

> Set pre-canon, but contains spoilers through 5.2, "Laws of Gravity"  
> Title from ["Good Night" by William Müller](http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16539)

McManus sits at their kitchen table staring at the letter for a long time - until the room starts to go dim, until the streetlights flicker on outside. City sounds filter through the open windows, car horns and tires squealing, snatches of conversation and confrontation. Somewhere down the block, the sound of a door slamming, a man and a woman screaming at each other. If he hears it, if it registers in any way in his brain, he doesn't react. He reads the letter, over and over, again and again until his mind sings with it, until the words feel seared onto his brain. We are pleased to inform you that your proposal has been approved - he runs his fingers over the thick, expensive paper, traces the seal embossed at the top.

They said yes. They said yes, and he can finally build it.

He jumps at the sound of the door. Glances at the clock, frowns. She should have been home half an hour ago. He hurries down the short hallway and meets her just inside the door, clutching the letter in his hand. "Hey."

"Hi, Tim." Eleanor's kneeling just inside the door, unlacing her big snowboots, and she glances up, smiles at him. It's brief, but while it's there it's real and warm and his. "How was your - "

"Congress approved it," he bursts out - can't contain it any longer, grins hugely at her, holding out the letter. She kicks off her boots and stands, reaching out to take it from him, reads it over slowly. "So that's the funding, and since the Commissioner already said yes - " She's starting to frown, a little, lips pursed, forehead wrinkling, and he thinks - no, fuck, this is fantastic, you should be -

"It's going to be at Oswald," he tries. "Governor Devlin talked to the warden out there, his name's, ah, Glenn or Glynn or something - he's on board, construction's going to start in March, it could be open by the beginning of next year."

She sighs. "Tim," she says slowly, something heavy in her voice. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to just drop everything and start fresh? You just got your foot in the door at - "

"This is my chance, Ellie," he says, struggling to keep the pleading note out of his voice. It's not like he's asking her goddamn permission. "I've been dreaming about this cell block since I was a kid, it's the best chance I have to show everyone - "

"That you're right?" She pushes the letter against his chest and shoves past him, heads down the hall toward the kitchen; he trails after her, frowning, heart turning over. Why is she so - "Tim, you're never going to get access to the resources you need to run that cell block, they might have approved your preliminary budget but - "

"But what?" He's aware, in a vague sort of way, that his voice is raising, can feel the heat rising in his face; He stomps over to the table, slams the letter down. "But it's a stupid idea? But it's doomed to fail? But I'm - "

"Tim," she says tiredly, but he's on a roll now.

" - wrong? Christ, Ellie, this is - you've never had any faith in me, you've never believed I could make a difference. Now even the state legislature's saying it's a good idea, and still all you can talk about is all the reasons why it's going to fail."

He cuts himself off. There's something strange in her eyes when she looks at him, something sad and hollow, and it's like whatever it is sucks all the words right out of his throat, leaves him parched and empty. "You're right," Eleanor says, but it doesn't sound like she's agreeing with him at all. "You're right, Tim, and everyone else is wrong. Nobody believes in you, nobody gives you enough credit, and nobody understands just how brilliant your ideas are."

"I - " He frowns. "I didn't say that. That's not what I - "

"It's what you meant, though, isn't it? Another perfect Tim McManus plan, ready to be shot down by the big bad uncaring politicians in Albany." She's still got her coat on and she tugs at the lapels, pulling the dark wool around her small frame. "Whose fault is it going to be when it doesn't work out this time?"

He blinks at her, dumbly, trying to catch up, wondering why he always came out feeling like they were having two totally different conversations. "It won't be - it's going to work, Ellie," he says. "This is - this is going to have a really positive impact on a lot of lives. A few boundaries, a little guidance, a bit of compassion - "

"And what, a cell block full of murderers and rapists are going to roll over for you and show you their bellies?" she says. "Tim, forgive me for not being excited about this, but - "

He almost wants to laugh. "About this," he says, shaking his head. "You never get excited about anything, Ellie, we've been married ten months and I don't think I've ever seen you show any kind of interest in anything I've tried to do for us."

Eleanor smiles; it's a small, tight expression, and it makes her look anything but happy. "For us?" Her voice dropping so low he can barely make out her words. "Tim, the only person you're interested in doing anything for is yourself."

It's a struggle not to gape at her, stare open-mouthed like a cartoon character, a caricature. "I - That's not true. You know that's not true."

Silence. They stare at each other across the kitchen. McManus wonders how she can be so goddamn still, so perfectly motionless, while he's standing here humming with energy, trying not to shake apart.

"I have a meeting," he says, finally, just to fill the space. "First thing tomorrow morning, with the warden up at Oswald. I thought we could drive up tonight, get a hotel, spend the weekend upstate." He shrugs. "Get some space. A little quiet."

"Space," she repeats, and he'd meant it more like distance between them and the constant hum of the city, but it sounds almost like she means it differently. "I think that's a good idea, Tim."

He nods. "Great," he says. "Get some things packed, we'll - "

"I'm not going."

"What?"

"Tim, I can't just drop everything and go running off upstate. I have a career here, I've got clients who are relying on me, I have commitments - "

"Oh," he says, "I'm sorry, I forgot how important your duties as a glorified secretary are," and okay, maybe it's a little mean, a little out of line, but she recoils physically, like he'd slapped her, and he didn't really think -

"Listen," she says, color rising in her cheeks. "Just because I'm not teaching thirty-year-old rapists how to read doesn't mean my work isn't just as important. More important."

"More important? Shuffling some papers around, figuring out how to add another couple zeros to the end of your firm's partners' paychecks is more important than making a real difference to these men, giving them a shot at a better life?" He presses his lips together, nods sharply. "Well, good. I'm glad I know now what you really think is important. Where your priorities lie."

"My priorities?" She actually laughs at him, real amusement, eyes crinkling up. "Tim, you wouldn't recognize a priority if one tripped you. You go ahead, keep trying to change the world one convicted felon at a time, and I'll keep working on making a life for us, keeping this goddamn city safe from your - "

The color drains out of her face and he realizes that without even thinking about it he's moved, stepped closer to her. Muscles in his shoulders tensing, hand curling into a fist. Her eyes drop, then rise back to his face. There's real fear there, in her gaze, buried under layers of disbelief and indignation. He wouldn't - but in that second, he realizes she thinks he could, that he might. He's horrified.

He forces himself to step back. Jams his hands in his pockets, looks at the floor because he can't bring himself to look at her face.

She turns her back on him, stares out the window over the sink. For a long moment, he watches her, studies the smooth lines and gentle curves of her body, her perfectly-coiffed hair and her tailored suit, and then she says, "Go," her voice low and shot through with exhaustion, finality.

"Ellie, I'm - "

"Go, Tim," she says. "I can't leave work right now, but you should - you shouldn't miss that meeting."

He's not sure what he's supposed to do, so he goes; down the hallway to the bedroom, where his duffel bag's already packed and ready. He ties his shoes, shrugs his jacket on, slings the bag over his shoulder. She's still where he left her, hands planted on the countertop, and he reaches out, touches her shoulder gently. "Ellie?"

There's a smile on her face when she turns, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"I'm - gonna go," he says. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Okay," she says.

He's not sure what he's supposed to do next, so he leans in and kisses her. No tongue. Her lips are small and cool and still under his. "I love you," he says, when she pulls away.

She reaches out and cups his cheek, briefly, her hand warm against his skin. "Good luck, Tim."

There's got to be something else he's supposed to say, something he should do, but he can't for the life of him figure out what it might be, so he just leaves; down the steps and out through the lobby of their building, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind him. Outside, the pavement's wet, shining under the streetlights, and he darts across the road to where he's parked his car, tosses his bag in the back seat, and as he pulls away he's thinking about his cell block, about education and equivalency programs and applicable skills, and not at all about Ellie and the look in her eyes when he kissed her.

She'll be right behind him. He's sure of it.


End file.
